Battle of the Blades
by Astudyinwriting
Summary: A work based on a work of art by anotherwellkeptsecret. John is a hockey player at the end of his career. Sherlock is an elsuive and diffcult to work with figure skater. A little show called Battle of the Blades will change both of their lives. Johnlock. Canada AU. Ice Skating AU. Multichapter. Possible Mystrade and smut in later chapters. Hope you enjoy!
1. John Watson on Thin Ice

So I saw a beautiful piece of artwork by anotherwellkeptsecret on tumblr and I just couldn't let it go. Be sure to check it out! This is the first chapter which I see turning into a multichapter Johnlock piece. Hopefully you all like it! Battle of the Blades is a real show, this fic is so far not beta'd but if you're intrested please leave a comment or shoot me a message.

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Hockey is rough sport to say the least. The constant collision and flowing movement is entirely brutal on your joints. Causes bruises all over your body. It makes your muscles ache. John Watson was all too aware of this painful fact. At 29 he was already on the outer stretches of his career as goalie for Vancouver Canucks. His playing was still superb but despite the reassurance of his coach and his fellow players he couldn't help but hear the whisperings. Tabloids and papers talking about the best new boys fresh out of secondary school tearing up the ice ready to take off on new careers without a mention of the prehistoric goalie anywhere. John had once been one of these boys with a very promising career ahead of him. But those days were more than a decade past. By all standards John had been very successful in his years. He'd even taken his team to the playoffs four times. But John would be damned if he didn't secure a Stanley Cup win before the only job he'd ever known tossed his sorry body to the street. John was willing to do nearly anything to secure one or two more seasons in the professionals so he could win the cup. And yet he had doubts about whether any team would carry a goalie who was nearly 30 years old, practically ancient in such physically damaging sport.

On the morning that his agent rung him up he was willing to advertise any product or sign with any advertiser or to do literally anything to keep his career from fading into obscurity before he reached the full potential he saw in his own ability to keep playing. He knew he could do it, just had to convince someone else of it as well. But, nevertheless when his agent Greg Lestrade rung him up and asked John how he felt about being on _Battle of the Blades_ he was less than enthusiastic. He'd done figure skating as a boy. His mother insisted it would make him a better hockey player. All the top boys were doing. And she may have not had enough money to buy him new skates but she poured every cent of the child support checks she received from John's absent father into his lessons. Physical therapists and private coaches, they'd lived with barely any money for food but she saw potential in John and wasn't going to let that go to waste. Somebody was going to make it out of the three generations of poverty. His younger sister Harry was often left with less attention and far less money directed towards her activities, but as soon as he was old enough, John began working to pay for his own lessons, insisted on any extra funds heading towards Harry's activities. He loved his sister more than nearly anyone and the guilt of her neglect for his talent often still left him with a feeling of guilt. But despite the support of his mother and somewhat reluctant support of his sister his peers were less supportive of his figure skating lessons and so he'd dropped it before he'd begun secondary school. But at the instance of his couch, had kept with the hockey. In a different life, John thought he would have been a good doctor but in this life he wanted to provide more than enough for his family.

So, despite the teasing , he'd always kept his figure skating skates in the back of his closet. Even he wasn't sure why but they always brought something up in him when he saw them, something warm and comfortable and familiar. So he'd held on to the tiny skates. But yet even years passed the pain of school yard teasing with a successful hockey career behind him, he was less than enthusiastic to lacing up in those thin bladed skates again. But then again he couldn't risk fading into obscurity and this would be exposure of a sort. And he couldn't be choosy right now. So after a pause and a moment's contemplation John agreed. But then he asked who his figure skating partner would be. And he could not believe his ears. Sherlock Holmes.

John was not gay. "I'm not gay" he had told every reporter and talk show host and news anchor who'd ever questioned his seeming lack of relationships. John had been in relationships with several previous girlfriends. He just hadn't allowed the media to catch wind of them. He'd preferred privacy. But entirely heterosexual was not a word John would use to describe himself. He'd had earlier sexual encounters with men and often found them very attractive. But the media didn't need to know more the than the fact that he was not gay. Not a lie but not entirely the truth. It had been years since John Had lusted after a man but when watching the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver he laid eyes upon Sherlock Holmes. He was angular and thin in the most gorgeous sort of way. He was pure muscle and angular bones. Not usually John's type but there was something about Sherlock that captured his attention. So when Greg told him they were going in a different direction this season of _Battle of the Blades_ and that they were going to include same-sex partner pairings and that John was to be paired with the bloody gorgeous Sherlock Holmes. His face turned a red colour and he was glad no one could see him.  
"Brilliant" John had stammered into the phone a little too quickly.

"Are you sure you're okay with this John? We can pursue other options." Greg said back.

"No, No, tell them I'll do it" John said. And with that he hung up. Holy shit John though tubbing his temples and hiding his face in his hands. What had he gotten himself into...


	2. Sherlock Holmes in Hot Water

Sherlock Holmes had not gained his reputation for being hard to work without cause. He would only work with a select few. He certainly did not have friends. That's not to say he didn't want to have friends, it's just that he too often found people difficult to handle. They were too stupid, too uninteresting, or too offended by his deductions, and his genius. He'd always lived a solitary life, told himself he prefered it. His brother, his archenemy, was the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. Mycroft had skating abilities and a mind to parallel Sherlock, but had lacked the drive and perseverance to perform. He did not however lack the drive to coach and serve a minor role in Canadian Government while constantly trying to keep his brother from being thrown of the ice by yet another partner. Mycroft understood his brother in a way that few did. The burden of being genius wore down on a person and Sherlock was not brilliant but also a champion athlete. Most people would kill to be that combination but Sherlock seemed to have a degree of disdain for the whole affair. He would skate and practice but nothing more. No fan meet and greets. No public charity appearances. Sherlock was a popular object of sexual appreciation by every person who had seen him skate, but he refused to even sign autographs. He wouldn't even do phone interviews for the papers.

The last partner Sherlock had skated with, a young woman by the name of Molly Hooper, who was beautiful and equally skilled in every regard, had still proved no match for his unstable moods and painful deductions. He'd deduced the day they met that she her boyfriend was gay and would soon reveal to her that he was involved in a long-term relationship with a man. Her fingernail polish, he has said, had made this painfully obvious. Somehow this didn't scare her away immediately. Sherlock wouldn't have really cared if it had hurt her feelings. He preferred skating alone anyway. He didn't need to worry about his partners feelings or be prepared for their mistakes. In the 2010 Olympics Sherlock had received a Gold medal for men's individual skating, and was praised for his technical skills on the ice. It was simple really. He just calculated and planned ever move to the degree of the foot lift needed to create the correct spin. He had managed to fake enough emotion into the skating and Mycroft had planned just the right choreography to secure the medal.

Mummy Holmes has wanted her boys to do a sport and what she wanted she got, she skating was deemed the acceptable Sherlock was born Mycroft had already been skating for 3 years, it was the assumed sport for Sherlock to pursue as well. Growing up in the wealthy elites of Toronto, money was no object to the Holmes family. When Sherlock showed a particular skill in skating, he was withdrawn from normal school and private tutors were hired. He and Mycroft would skate 9 hours a day. Sherlock barely talked to anyone but Mycroft and the series of tutors he ran through. He existed in his own world. The tutors had all proved to have too little knowledge to hold the boys attention for. Mycroft took over tutoring Sherlock in more advanced subjects when he could. The hardest years for Sherlock as a child were the years when Mycroft was studying at McGill University. He was alone with coaches who didn't understand him and tutors who couldn't teach him anything. Sherlock saw Mummy about once a week and His father even less. Mycroft hadn't rung him even once. He felt completly forgotten. Mycroft had come back from university but despite a degree in politics, choose to keep coaching Sherlock. Nearly a man now Sherlock had grown nearly two feet in the time he'd been away. But this Sherlock had the form of a figure skater, Slender with legs that went on for miles. But the height of this Sherlock didn't deceive Mycroft. Sherlock was still only 15, not yet an adult.

"You've gotten dreadfully thin" Mycroft stated frankly. The first words after 4 years without a phone call.

"And you weigh enough for the both of us" Sherlock said flatly, eyes lacking the glint of life they'd had when Mycroft had left. Mycroft was horrified at the shell of the child he'd left behind.

Sherlock trained for 2006 Olympics but an injury due to an unskilled partner held him back from making the cut for the team that year. He preformed incredibly after he recovered and had succeeded at securing himself a spot in the 2010 games. He proved his country proud by winning a medal but it hadn't seemingly meant a thing to him. But a certain incident as of recent had put his entire career at risk. Sherlock's separation from this planed Olympic pairing with Molly had not ended on good terms. An event that Sherlock would defiantly not talk about and Mycroft would pretend had not happened for as long as he could, resulted in a rather explosive and extremely insulting trail of words to fall from Sherlock's mouth that caused Molly to cry in the street when there happened to be a reporter around. It had been a nightmare the last few weeks. Mycroft wasn't sure Sherlock could ever come back from this one. Figure skating was Sherlock's only option. Coaching was the tradition for has been athletes but Sherlock lacked every virtue required for such an activity. Mycroft worried for what would become of Sherlock if he lost skating. So, when the people from _Battle of the Blades_ called, Mycroft saw an opportunity to save his brother. Mycroft accepted before even talking to Sherlock about. Sherlock didn't get any say at this point in the game. He had had his say when he insulted the precious sweetheart of ice skating on street corner and brought her to tears. This would be the end of the line if they couldn't market Sherlock as marketable and talented. But when Mycroft asked who Sherlock's partner would be, the name John Watson hung in the air for a moment. This would be an interesting match Mycroft thought to himself as he stared at picture of 4-year-old Sherlock with his first pair of skates around his neck.


	3. A Long Way from Home

Sorry about the slight delay in updating! Hope you're still enjoying the story so far! If you're intrested in beta'ing this story I woul appreciate it! Enjoy chapter 3!

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To: Lestrade, Gregory GLestrade

From: Holmes, Mycroft

Mr. Lestrade,

I've been informed that your client, John Watson is to skate with my client for the television program _Battle of the Blades_. The producers thought I could help you arrange accommodations for Mr. Watson's arrival in Ontario, So I took the liberty. Flight details and three apartment options are attached. See you in three weeks time Mr Lestrade.

Mycroft Holmes

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Agent and Coach

To: Holmes, Mycroft

From: Lestrade, Gregory

Hello Mr. Holmes,

First off, call me Greg! Second, thank you for securing arrangements for us, John says he prefers the Baker St. Apartment if that unit is still available (Lord Toronto rent is steep even compared to Vancouver!) But, with basic business out of the way, Isn't "Your client" your brother? No need to uphold the formal level of discourse in your previous e-mail with me Mr. Holmes. Johns heard that Sherlock can be less than amiable to work with, and is concerned, but I'm doing my best to reassure him that all will be well. I expect Sherlock has the same concerns. See you soon!

Greg Lestrade

Agent

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To: Lestrade, Gregory GLestrade

From: Holmes, Mycroft

Gregory,

Sorry for the delay in correspondence. Sherlock had to prepare for a charity skate event. I assure you, my brother can be less than amiable in some situations, and we will do our best to make sure to control his outbursts. He has no thoughts onJohn beyond what he thinks of everyone else. Hopefully all goes well with your travels. The Baker St. Apartment will be yours as soon you arrive here in Toronto. I purpose we arrange for us all to have dinner on your first night.

Mycroft Holmes

Agent and Coach

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John was terrified and on too entirely on edge when packing his meager belongings into the three suitcases Greg had dropped by. He rolled his patterned sweaters and woollen socks up extremely neatly. His crisp formal wear sat next to his cases in its suit bag. To be honest, this was the fourth time John had packed for this trip but despite his facetious packing it never felt right. He'd had loads of games that required him to travel all those miles across the country and even into the states on several occasions, but then there had been the security of Hockey uniform. The comfort of familiarity it provided around him. But the entire purpose of this blasted show was to take him out of his comfort zone, thrust a clumsy athletic hockey player into the world of delicate and precise figure skating. Though, when John let his mind wander onto the true cause of his nerves, he thought it might have to be that Sherlock was more out of his comfort zone than the daintier skates, but better to not linger on that thought. Greg told him he'd be round with the car at 8am so John still had 12 hours of solitary sulking to push through before he'd have the distraction of four and half hour flight. John didn't sleep at all that quiet Vancouver night. He'd laid in his all too uncomfortable bed thinking, completely settling on an all too anxious edge. Come morning Greg rang the buzzer on John's Apartment and John greeted him at the door bags in hand. Greg loaded John's bags into the town car and they sat in near silence the entire drive to the Airport.

"Are you okay John?" Greg asked quizzically.

"Oh umm yes, yes fine just tired, hardly slept" John managed to say in a none to convincing tone.

The rest of the drive was suffered in rather uncomfortable silence. Before exiting the car John pushed on a pair of slick sunglasses, to prevent the press from getting any decent photographs if they should be about. Greg handed John his boarding pass, managed the checking of the luggage with ridiculously smiley Air Canada agent and got them through security. He purchased gum and a couple crappy magazines for John to flip through. After about an hour of mindless waiting and watching the stupid airport channel broadcasted at all the gates, they boarded the plan. They were in the all too posh, as far as john was concerned, first class section. John sat in the window seat and Greg beside him. After a brief safety presentation John stared out the windows and watched Vancouver disappear behind him as it disappeared into the clouds. Four and half hours later the landing gear clicked down.

"The local time is 6:45pm. The temperature is 16 degrees Celsius, and the weather is overcast with a chance of rain. Welcome to Toronto" The young stewardess called over the announcement. John let out and audible sigh.

Here goes nothing he though as he grabbed his belongings and followed Greg out of the plane. But somehow nothing didn't feel like nothing.


End file.
